SEX DRUGS AND THE PINK PAVEMENTS OF LISBON

There is something sad yet beautiful about the morning after the night before.

Early in the morning, long before the city cranks to life like a reluctant old machine, a strange almost ballet like event takes place on the pink pavements of Lisbon’s red light district; The Rua Nova do Carvalho. Every morning long before the eyes of judgement are awake and on their way to their 9 till 5 respectability, the streets like the souls of sinners seeking redemption are cleansed of the previous nights indiscretions. I can’t help but think that as the road sweepers wash away the vomit and cigarette butts, they take along with them a million stories, perhaps even a best seller or two, stories of broken hearts and noses, the faithful companions of broken promises mumbled in drunken moments. But the stories have no place in the bright morning sunlight and are washed away with the fag butts and used condoms and soon the pink pavement is again ready to greet the night. Conscience makes cowards of us all.